9.05.2015

a car, a torch, a death.

Sometimes I remember, angry now, about how empty I was then. How much ugly I held. How I wrenched myself into a mold I wanted desperately to fit me. You never know what horror is until you've metabolized the feeling of screaming, mouth wide, but nothing comes out because you can't, you can't. It has been four hundred days, fifty two minutes, and thirty six seconds since the day I decided I couldn't try anymore, but Jo, please tell me why I still see his face. Tell me why I can't forgive myself for abandoning and abuser. I know the psychology, I've done it. But the thing is, despite knowing it like the inside of my own palm, I can't stop it. I see it in flashes, panicked, desperate flashes at school when I freeze in every sense of the word, feeling my blood turn so cold it almost sends me screaming. They tell you people often feel sympathy for their abusers, that they would protect them. I wouldn't protect him. But I would let it happen all over again. I'm not strong, Jo; I'm not strong enough. I see a car that looks like his and I duck. I drove past his neighborhood last week. I gripped my thighs so hard they bled. It's stuck. I can't talk myself out. I do better, now, but Jo what if I never heal. What if this is never better. I told you "it doesn't feel like healing, it just feels like hurt" and I don't know how else to say it. How do you verbalize what you can't understand. Because I can't, I don't get it. I have nightmares, sometimes, that I get a call and someone talks to me. I think his mother. She tells me he's dead. She tells me it's my fault. She tells me I created this black hole for myself. She calls me damaged goods for being a molestation survivor, akin to her daughter who almost said it to my face. I cry. I wake up crying. I try to reach for something, anything to snap me into the real world. It doesn't happen much anymore, but sometimes I'm terrified one day that will be the real world.

Eulogy
for the Person I No Longer Love:

It
is your grave. You dug it for yourself. But for some reason, I have
fallen in instead of you.we're going to outlaw him. i love you.
-kiss kiss kiss, wrote this in three minutes-
{pea ess: i would quote tøp in the title.}

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Somewhere Over the Rainbow...my king dwells

Feast your eyes, ladies. I think after nearly seven years it isn't just a girlish crush anymore, is it? I hate the fact that the guys in the movies are always better. It's kind of just a dream that we may get someone like Peter Pevensie in real life. And if I don't, God will just have to make me a twin ;)